


Strange people

by cowboytakemeaway



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Character Study, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-08 04:20:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20829305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboytakemeaway/pseuds/cowboytakemeaway
Summary: "Later, there came different people, reeking of blood, gore and death himself. They looked haunted, all of them, like there were things that they couldn’t escape, things more gruesome than the not-so-dead-people on the streets."This is basically a character study with our beloved original prison group. I tried to write is as canon as possible but couldn't help but to add a bit Daryl&Beth (really inexplicit).I felt inspired by season four, when Tyreese and Sasha join their group. It made me wonder how an outsider would see each member - on their own but also in relation to other people.





	Strange people

Strange people.

They were strange people.

There was a boy with dark hair and a bright soul. A boy, who was so much more than his age, so much more than the worn hat on his scalp, so much more than the gun he was holding.  
He was wisdom and experience, and bravery – but most of all, he had a good heart.

There was a girl with eyes bluer than the sky itself, nearly a woman, but not quite yet. There was a baby, a little bundle in her arms, who she cradled dearly near her heart. She was a good girl, so much brighter than the world they all lived in now, a reminder of all things good – past and present.  
But they saw danger in the strong set of her jaw, in the sparkle of her eye.

There was an older woman with silvery hair but a youthful face. It seemed like her wrinkles and lines were a delusion, like she was a goddess of youth and bravery. Not in the sense of naïveté but in the sense of her willingness to still see the good in people, to trust her gut and her beating heart. This didn’t mean she wasn’t willing to fight, because she was, and fiercely so.

There was an old man, bearded and rich. Maybe not in belongings, not anymore, but in experience and in his sense of justice. He looked at them as if he already knew them, as if there was nothing which could surprise him anymore. His expression made them shiver, but when he talked it was as if the sun would set behind a field full of corn, the silence only disturbed by birds singing their lullabies.

Later, there came different people, reeking of blood, gore and death himself. They looked haunted, all of them, like there were things that they couldn’t escape, things more gruesome than the not-so-dead-people on the streets. 

There was a young man and a young woman, clinging to each other more than they must have clung to life out there. Both of them had fire in their eyes, the will to fight. When they looked at each other it was as if the world was burning, the flames leaving nothing other than them. Still, they were more similar to each other than they themselves would ever realize. They had the same expression, the same stance. They would go to all ends for each other – and together they could defy all manner of evil.

There was a man who looked as if he was drowning from the inside, like he was grasping for things to hold onto. When he saw the boy, the one who was willing to save them, it was as if he had found it – at least a little. The hauntedness of his expression weakened into something a bit more steady. He scooped up the baby, put a hand on the boy’s scrawny shoulder and seemed more at peace.

Lastly, there was man with shaggy hair and squinty eyes, who scanned them with an unsettling gaze as if they weren’t to be trusted, as if no one really was. His arms were dirty, his bicep strong. But they saw how his hands were shaking when he thought no one was looking, how he would gnaw at his thumb or check the door one time too often. Truth was, he was frightened. Maybe not of the dead people, maybe he was way past that.

When he looked at the girl, though, it was as if the world had rearranged itself, as if the sun was its center and he was blended by the sheer intensity of the light.  
And when she looked at him, it was as if the world was an ocean and the waves threatened to swallow her whole, but he was there, her steady rock in the flood.

The other people did not seem to notice, not yet at least. The new ones, the visitors, thought it was funny – ironically so. They were a family, fully in tune with each other, and they seemed to understand one another without words. But they were all so caught up in their own problems, their own miseries, that they couldn’t realize that the others had struggles too. Maybe they just didn’t want to.  
Either way, the man and the woman didn’t seem to mind. Didn’t even understand what the other felt, but still centered around each other. An unlikely pair to the unskilled observer, a natural one to the skilled one.

They called themselves Carl and Beth and Carol and Hershel and MaggieandGlenn and Rick and Daryl.  
Protector. Caretaker. Angel. Ancestor. Lovers. Leader. Warrior.

Yes, strange people they were.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey you!  
Thanks for reading my one-shot. Like you may have noticed: English isn't my first language. I started to write this in an attempt to learn it better, so if you see any mistakes (grammatical- or spellingwise) than please, please, please point it out for me in the comments!  
Whishing you a wonderful day(/night),  
-cowboytakemeaway


End file.
